Tonight in preparation for bed, my children were having a discussion about our new home in Klamath, Oregon. I introduced them to visualization some time ago, and that’s what we practice together each night, aloud. As I discussed the feelings, smells, sounds and sensations my son announced that he was going to hide The Dangerous Book for Boys in his new room because my daughter was always trying to prove something by copying the instructions. This is news to me because although my four-year-old is quite intelligent, she cannot yet read well enough to reveal the secrets from within.
I announced she didn’t need that book and I swiftly returned from the closet with the blue counterpart, The Daring Book for Girls. Nikki’s eyes were opened wide as I announced I would read a portion to put them to bed. As happen chance, on this 30th day of May, I parted the book directly to page 84, the story of Joan of Arc. As I read the story from the two printed pages, I watched my son fight sleep to capture every word. But it was the bottom of the second page which captured my attention this Memorial Day.
On May 30th, 580 years ago, the world lost a soldier who was burned at the stake in France at the age of 19, after leading an army into battle. 500 years after her demise, she was declared by Pope Benedcit XV to be a saint.
I believe on this Memorial Day, I will give thanks to God for this miracle of a woman who steadfast clung to His words. Her final two words being heard screaming above the flames as they engulfed her were “Jesus! Jesus!” What women of society today would be so bold as to do this, declaring the sacred name as her body was licked by death?
All soldiers require recognition for defending our country, but Joan of Arc deserves it for defending the name and power of God.